The Beast Is Near
by Mio Basil
Summary: This is a rewrite of the end of the novel. Ralph awakes in the middle of the night, and finds himself face to face with the Lord Of The Flies.


**AN: This is a rewritten version of the end of the book Lord Of The Flies. The characters don't belong to me.**

Tangled in a mass of stems and leaves, Ralph awoke in the middle of the night, the full moon high in the velvet sky. With a great yawn Ralph pushed away the sheltering ferns and stepped into the clearing. He found himself face to face with the Lord of the Flies, who, on his sharpened throne, stared soullessly at the boy with unruly hair. An ominous shadow danced over the white skull, its outline lost to the dark space around it. A single fly trailed along the eye socket, gleaming in the moonlight. It hovered into the air and flitted noisily before it finally settled just below Ralph's left eye. The boy paid no heed.

"You silly, silly child," the Lord of the Flies snarled, "Just like all the others. You think you're so different, don't you? So much more civilized. Hah! You're no different. You're a savage, just like them all."

The fly explored the bridge of the boy's nose, but there was no twitch from the stony face it stained. His intent stare was on the pig's head that grinned mockingly at the boy, its teeth cruelly exposed in the dim light.

"All alone in the night. Nowhere to hide, eh? They'll do you in," the brutal Skull grunted, "They'll do you in."

Icy silence filled the foul darkness between the Lord of the Flies and his servant. The beleaguering fly crawled about the boy's cheek and flew into the occult jungle. A monosyllabic grunt escaped the great Skull's lips.

"Run."

The boy turned his back on the horrendous skull and sprinted through the underbrush, his dirty hair flying in a knotted mess behind him. The branches tore and bit at his rough, weathered skin, the dimly lit trees teeming with the jungle's malicious claws. Darkness engulfed the fleeing boy. The web of green growth tripped him and sent him stumbling over the crackling branches and leaves. He ripped at the brush, fleeing furiously from what lay in the primeval darkness. A large splinter speared the boy's leg, the wound spurting blood that dripped and stained the earth. Ralph extended his arm instinctively, howling as he pulled the object out of his flesh, staggering forward and collapsing to his knees. He dragged his limp body into the nearby nook of a large tree root and immediately fell out of consciousness.

A shift in the dismal darkness caught the ears of the savages. The boy with red hair arose from the beastly clamor of his tribe, two fiery eyes glinting with hunger. Torches were lit. Claws were sharpened. A great rustle in the murky black air.

_ "Kill the beast. Cut his throat. Spill his blood."_

When Ralph opened his eyes the moon still lit the jungle leaves with a meek white light. The wound on his leg throbbed and oozed a lurid yellow liquid.

The boy hauled himself out of the tree root and leaned against the damp bark, becoming lightheaded by the hasty maneuver. As he rested against the sturdy trunk, he heard an abrupt crack in the distance, as though a great paw had been put down to announce its presence.

Another crack; louder this time.

A voice resonated in the calignous obscurity. Jack turned to his tribe, promising them the most satisfying game on the island. His garbled grunt traveled on the shifting wind, the voice's carnal thirst for blood carrying in the bitter breeze and tickling Ralph's ear. The beast was near.

The boy pushed himself off of his refuge. His legs faltered, but he propelled his disobeying frame into the bleak opacity. With his last empty strength he fought through the thicket, racing through the cold night air and crashing desperately through the leaves, praying for an escape. The voices advanced through the murk, now accompanied by the rhythmic rustle of branches and the clattering of sharpened claws. The savages surged through the thicket and their crazed shouting and ululations consumed the island.

_ "Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!"_

The boy with fair hair burst out of the jungle and onto the beach, finally allowing himself to slow to a halt. The vast ocean swelled in front of his eyes, the beach extending infinitely to either side of him and the salty breeze colliding with his skin.

Pain pulsed through Ralph's brain as the merciless voice of the Lord of the Flies obscured his mind. A dark shadow flitted over his vision and clouded his mind.

_ "There is no escape."_

The boy's knees trembled beneath him and he fell, his fatigued frame curling onto the fine sand. His unkempt hair fanned out under his head and the salty sand blew over his face. The wound on his leg pulsed incessantly.

Ralph groaned and rolled onto his back when something cold and sharp pierced his spine. With a grunt the boy reached under his back; his fist closed over a small shell. It was a conch. Bleached white by the sun, the faint tinge of pink on its edges were hardly visible in the starless night. Ralph shut his eyes and brought it to his lips and tasted the salty water that had collected inside of it in the tide. Finally his eyes flickered open and he threw the shell to the side. It fell noiselessly in the sand, far from his reach. Out of the corner of his eye the first light of day twinkled on the horizon.

The painted bodies breached the jungle boundary and appeared one by one on the sand. Seeing the fallen boy, they danced and ululated, delirious with joy. A riotous, creature-like mass, the savages advanced on their prey.

_ "Kill the beast. Cut his throat. Spill his blood."_

Ralph closed his eyes and felt sand get kicked on his face.

_ "Kill the beast! Cut his throat" Spill his blood! Do him in!"_

The boy with red hair emerged from the chaotic circle. His face and body was painted intricately and was adorned with grasses and seeds. He carried a stick that was sharpened at both ends. He stood over the boy on the sand, and the circle fell silent.

He threw his stick on the ground and unsheathed the knife from his hip with a steady hand. He crouched on top of the fallen boy and raised his arm high. The boy's lightless eyes moved and met the gleaming ones. He lay relaxed, sinking into the sand, his chest rising and falling against the knee that restrained it.

The fiery eyes shut and the blade tasted blood. Crimson fluid spurted and stained the sand. The fallen boy's vision faded to black. The circle roared. The savage with unruly red hair picked up his spear and disappeared into the tenebrous jungle.


End file.
